Page 132 of Eternal

AZRA

“Dawn Of A New Time” by Johan Soderqvist, Patrick Andrén

Past

I t’s been forever since I saw Vik and Kat and the dogs.

I don’t even remember what day it is. Maybe Saturday. Or maybe it’s not even a real day.

They stop being real when you don’t go to school.

Mama didn’t want me to go out. She said school was a lie. That the teachers would turn me against her. That if I left, someone would take me. Like take me away . I didn’t ask where, I stopped asking to go.

She kept saying there were bad people out there, and they didn’t love me like she did.

I believe her.

But I miss the way Mischka and Notch would chase me even when it was raining.

I miss knowing what time it is.

She said the world was evil and loud and only I could keep hers quiet. That I was her sunshine and moon at the same time because of my eyes, her pretty iris. But sometimes she looked at me like I was the noise too. Like I was dark clouds and a dead flower.

I live in the closet now. The hallway one. It’s small, and I made it mine. I call it my lonely castle.

I folded Eren’s blanket into the floor and tucked Sunny under my chin. He’s my red fox. He smells like my mouth because I sleep on him.

Sunny was my only friend now.

But he keeps me company because Mama can’t anymore.

She is really sad.

She used to sing to me when she brushed my hair. A song with words I never understand. I hum it now in the closet, softly, into Sunny’s ear. I don’t really remember what it sounded like anymore, I only know how it made my chest feel. Floaty, warm, like I could cry and laugh at the same time.

Sometimes she’d come open the door and cry, or scream, or throw up and tell me she was sorry but also that I was ungrateful. I simply nodded and hugged her. It was safer to be quiet

She needed me close. She always repeated that she missed me too much when I was gone. That I was the only one who made her feel real.

So I stayed.

I was hungry. But not enough to leave my lonely castle yet.

I think she cried last night. I think she drank too.

Her voice sounded sloshy when she asked if I still loved her.

But it made my chest twist. So this morning I left her room and didn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes looked when she asked if I was still her little girl.

Of course I was. I would always be my mom’s little girl.

But she didn’t believe it. It made me sad too.

I stay here all day long. Then I hear something. A short scream.

Not like yelling, more like someone falling. Then glass shatters.

I freeze, my chest gets tight and I stop humming. Sunny is smashed under my chin now and I think I might be breathing too loud.

Nothing else happens. No footsteps. No voice.

I don’t know how long I wait. I think forever.

Then I kick the door open. The light burns. I squint, step out, the hallway is silent, but I whisper, “Mama?” No one answers.

I move toward the living room, slow. There’s broken glass on the ground. A vase.

The one with the irises. They’re dead now. All dried and brown and curled like paper. I liked them when they were purple.

And Mama is next to them.

She’s on the floor, slumped weird. Her hand is half-under her stomach. Her hair covers part of her face. The bottle is tipped over. The white plate is on the table, there’s powder on it, and a straw, not the drinking kind, the other kind.

I think I whisper her name. “Amane?”

Nothing.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” I said. I don’t know why that’s what came out, it just did.

I take a step. My foot crunches something. I look down and I’ve stepped on the irises. My sock is wet because of the water from the vase.

My legs stop working and I drop to my knees beside her. Sunny gets squished under my arm but I’m scared.

“ Mama ?” My voice is a whisper. “Mama, please.”

Her lips are open, her eyes closed, but she’s not snoring.

She always snores when she sleeps.

I nudge her shoulder. It rolls, but she doesn’t wake up.

She’s breathing weird… Not like people breathe. “Wake up,” I whisper. “Wake up now, Mama. I’m scared.” Nothing . “Please get up. Please. I don’t wanna play anymore. Please .”

I touch her hand but it’s heavy and wet. Her face is all sweaty too.

“Mama wake up. It’s not funny. I’ll be good, okay? I promise.”

I try pulling her, but she doesn’t move.

I back away, my stomach hurts. I run to the kitchen, and grab the phone. My hands aren’t working right. I press the wrong numbers and drop it. I scream and pick it up again then press Alexei’s number.

“Solnyshko?”

My voice cracks when I hear his voice. “She’s not waking up. She fell. There’s glass. She’s not moving. There’s stuff and and and… I don’t know what to do.. She’s on the floor. I think she’s dead. I think she broke.”

His voice goes tight. “Listen to me baby, calm down. She’s not dead. Is she breathing?”

“I don’t know. She’s on the floor and there’s water and the flowers are dead and she’s not moving.”

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to call an ambulance. I’m calling them right now. But you have to stay with her, okay? You have to talk to her. Okay? Talk to her.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know, solnyshko . I know. But you’re the bravest girl I know. Stay on the phone. Stay with her.”

I drop the phone but kept it on speaker and then I crawl back next to her.

I hold Sunny in one hand and Mama’s fingers in the other. “You gotta wake up now,” I whisper. “You’re scaring me too much.”

No answer.

“Remember when you gave me Sunny? You said he’d keep me safe when you couldn’t. He’s still here. I’m still here. You have to wake up. You have to say something.”

Her hand twitches.

I grab it immediately. “Mama?”

She mumbles. Then nothing again. Then sirens. Then people.

They break the door. I scream. I think I scream really loud. They’re strangers in big vests and heavy boots. I show them where she is.

They roll her onto her back. One of them shines light in her eyes. “She’s out,” he says. “Possible overdose.”

I keep holding her hand until they pull me away. Then I scream even more and cry too.

“Don’t take her!! She’s still my mom! She’s still mine!”

They say other words too, but I don’t know them. Then they pull me aside, one of them kneels in front of me and pats my head kindly. “You did really good, sweetheart. You saved her.”

I didn’t save her.

She’s still not awake but I stop crying. I hold Sunny so tight I think I hear the seams rip.

They lift her on a stretcher and her arm dangles.

They let me ride in the ambulance.

Her hand flops near mine, I hold it carefully.

She’s sweating a lot. Her mouth opens. “Azra,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…I was just…just tired.”

I squeeze her hand so hard. “I’m scared, mama,” I whisper. “I’m really scared.”

Her lips moved. “I’m sorry, baby.” Then she closed her eyes again.

That’s the first time she ever said sorry today. And it didn’t make me feel better. It made it worse.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” I cry. “I want you to be okay. I don’t want you to die.”

She tries to squeeze my hand, but her fingers are all jelly.

At the hospital, I sit on a blue chair with sticky arms. My legs don’t touch the floor.

They take Mama away. They don’t let me go too far.

Sunny is still in my lap, soaked on one side. I don’t know if it’s from the rug or my tears or Mama’s hand.

I don’t talk, I keep staring at the floor.

Alexei bursts through the doors like he ran from the other side of the planet. His face breaks when he sees me. He gets down low and grabs my arms like he thinks I’ll disappear.

“I’m here, solnyshko. I’m here now. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

But I’m angry at him. He left her. He left me.

“She’s not dead,” I say. “She opened her eyes.”

“I’m here. I’m here now.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” I whisper.

“You did perfect. You saved her life, baby.”

“She didn’t look like she had a life,” I say. “She looked like a ghost. And the flowers were dead. And the plate was on the table again.”

“I know.”

“Is she gonna die later?”

“I don’t know. But right now she’s alive. That matters.”

“Can she come home for my birthday?”

He looks like someone punched him in the face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

I don't cry again, even if I really want to, I only stare at him. “I don’t want cake if she’s not home.”

He doesn’t answer, and pulls me closer, but I keep my arms down.

I’m mad at him, really mad. Mom was sick, and he simply left and told me to take care of her. She was sad because of him too, and I’ll be mad at him forever for that.

Later they let me in her room.

Mama is there, eyes closed, mouth open, a machine made her breathe.

“You gotta wake up,” I whisper. “I only want to know you’re still here.”

I put Sunny next to her shoulder and crawl into the chair beside the bed.

I don’t sleep, I keep singing to Sunny a song.

When she opens her eyes, barely, it’s still dark out. The nurse steps in and removes the tube from her mouth, then she hands her a glass of water, and quietly leaves the room.

That’s when Mom looks at me. “I messed up.”

“You always mess up,” I reply, and then I bite my tongue because it felt mean. “But I still love you. I don’t care if you’re sad and yelling and drinking. Don’t die, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

I hold her hand. “It’s okay, be home tomorrow, promise me.”

She doesn’t promise. But she closes her eyes again. And the beeping doesn’t stop.

And I stay there with her. Because no one else does.